Hawkdive
by The Trinity
Summary: Chapter 2 up! Scott Jaeger, Head of CTU San Fransisco is about to get wound up in an tri-national conspiracy against the US. But what exactly is Hawkdive? Please RR
1. State of Affairs

This story has been written by three people, Luke Shaw, John O'Keeffe and Duncan McKermitt. This first chapter is written by Luke Shaw.  
  
Steam flowed from the cup, snaking around her face. Silhouetted against the wall with a myriad of colours. Neon signs out side flashing advertising that this café, on an average street corner, sold the best breakfast for $3.99 in a five-block radius. Then again every 5 blocks was another café that sold the best breakfast for $3.99 in a five-block radius. The tables wee just as grimy and chipped as any other table. So it would seem to any ordinary person that this café was just a regular café. And that is all it was. But in this smoky corner, illuminated by many flashing lights, two extraordinary people were in a conversation, that to all intents and purposes was the most influential conversation ever made in this café. A waitress nervously tip toed down to their table. She knelt a little and replaced their ashtray, which was now full to the brim with smoky ash and fag ends. She smiled as the woman shot her a glance of recognition. It was a weak, smoke stained smile, but it was a smile after all.  
  
The woman turned back to her coffee. She reached up and brushed a few strands of greasy brown hair from across her face. It wasn't unattractive hair, but it wasn't a silky, smooth and shiny as it should be according to the poster of those who used various brands of shampoo and conditioners to wash and manage their hair. But then again it was in a way far superior to their chemically enhanced hair, because it was in fact naturally perfect, in every way that a super models wasn't. She looked him in the eyes and urged him to carry on.  
  
"You do understand that everything I'm telling you is the truth don't you?" She gave him a nervous grin. "It's the truth as far as I'm concerned," She sighed, " Anyway it isn't like any one else has access to this information is it." He sat back in the seat, fake leather padding squeaking through the friction, and reached into his jackets' side pocket. He pulled out a battered cigarette packet and tapped it gently underneath, a cigarette promptly jutted up form the rest. Methodically, with the experience of someone who has done the same thing thousands of time, and he placed it in his mouth, lit it with a grubby brown lighter, and took a long drag from it. He blew out a long stream of blue-black smoke straight into her face. Politely she averted her eyes from the smoke. "I'm sorry, but do you have to do that every time you start to smoke a cigarette?" He smirked and shifted the cigarette around with his tongue. "Sorry it's a force of habit. Nothing personal I assure you." "I'm sure it is. Look. I know we've been sitting here for over three hours talking about things that are only written about in books." "So is there a problem with it? Too hard to digest?" "That's it exactly, you've said so much but do you expect me to believe all of it? I'm going to have to run through a couple of things with you again." "Just ask me what you want me to say, and I'll say it again. Just remember I only have two more hours left." "What are you waiting for anyway? And why is it so important?" "That is a question that I am not authorised to answer." She shifted uneasily and put her coffee cup down. Quickly, as if expecting him to get up and leave, she pushed the coffee cup towards him and pulled out her notebook and pencil. She jotted down a few things and looked up at him again. "For the record Scott, who set up the hit?" Scott put out his cigarette in the ashtray, and wiped his hand across his forehead, pushing back his fringe. "Ok then. For the record. I can't tell you that. And I'm not going to so stop asking me to." "But, the hit did take place three weeks ago?" "Yes it did happen on that day. Tuesday The 28th of February. That's all the information on Hawkdive I have." Scott shifted in his seat, and plucked out another cigarette. He placed it in his mouth. "Listen Kate, you've obviously not taken in what I've been saying." "Well it is slightly unbelievable, I mean why? Why did you choose me to tell someone like me?" "You keep saying that." "What?" "That it's unbelievable. Unfortunately it has to be believable. Because it's true and that's that." "I know but." "But what? Is it really so hard to believe that there was a plot to kill the president?" "What? A plot to kill the president?" "Ok, so you have been listening then. Hawkdive targeted people we couldn't have predicted. The head of state in New York, the third highest-ranking officer in the LAPD, the President's personal aide and a member of the CTU, namely Scott Jaeger, or as you may have guessed, me. So you understand that Hawkdive was not an actual move against the president?" "Yeah, it was just a rouse. A diversion." "Exactly. This means that whoever I'm dealing with is a very clever person. We have sources in Serbia, Russia and Iraq. All of them found someone who had something to do with Hawkdive." "So three different people of different nationalities, they were all involved.to stop anyone from tracing them back to a single person, am I right?" Scott flipped out his lighter and lit his cigarette, taking care to exhale the smoke away from Kate's face. "In a way, yes. It's the closet thing to an answer we can come up with at the moment, were still working on the details, and at the same time trying to cover it up. But it's not quite that simple. Everyone targeted was related, we've all served in the military, but that's as far as we can get with the connection. The data on Hawkdive is corrupted, and there are a few names missing. When you think there could be anything up to fifty homicides a day in New York alone, you'll see how hard we have to work just to dig up a trace on someone who could be involved. I'm telling you because you are in the media, and you work on the New York Times. You have access to things we don't Strange as it may seem we can't get a hold of homicide reports as detailed as yours. You need to get me the homicide reports for the past three weeks. Do you understand what I am asking you?" "Completely. Homicide reports, for the last three weeks, copies of them. I can do that" A low vibrating cut the conversation short. Scott thrust his hands into his pocket and pulled out a slim, black flip-phone. He pressed a button and the flip top swung open. "This is Jaeger.You mean they changed the time? Oh shit you have to be kidding.look I'm finished here.yeah I'm going to get down as soon as I can.look get Richardson to look into it.no, now we don't have any time to waste.yeah I'm going to the car.patch the info to my laptop.I'll be there as soon as I can." Putting his phone into his jacket Scott swung his jacket over his shoulder and leapt up from his seat. "Kate, Listen something extremely important has come up at CTU, get those files and meet me here as soon as possible, call me, mail me, get in contact, I have to go now ok?" "Yeah but why do you have to go?" Scott stopped dead. "There has been another attempt at a hit. Look I have to go" Kate took her seat again. Thoughtfully she jotted down the names of the people on the Hawkdive list. There was no way she was gong to let him down. $20,000 dollars was a lot of money and that was only for the names, when she got the dates she would earn a further $230,000 and on her salary that was a godsend. In fact it would be a godsend for anyone nowadays. She smirked and got up, leaving a $50 dollar note for a $16.78 meal.  
  
"Richardson, is there any word on the hit yet.I'm heading down to CTU Los Angeles division.Yeah I know I'd come down there but there isn't any time ok? Just pull up some case files on our candidates for the hits and get them sent to Los Angeles now.Look no questions asked.look I'm about to hit the freeway so call me back.yeah as soon as you have the files." Traffic around his car condensed as he pulled up onto the freeway. He looked around. All of those different people oblivious to what was going on around them. Or what had been going on for the past five months. The state had been on the edge of a knife. The Media were baiting members of Federal Organisations; attempting to pull whatever information they had out of them. The Police force were having trouble maintaining their current jobs and trying to hold the state together in case the threat assessment was deemed too high and someone had to announce to the public exactly what was going on. It didn't help that every arrest and every investigation had to be taken place with the full support of a fully armed SWAT team member. The impression of a local police officer armed with a Berretta 9mm and a Riot officer with an MP5 and a 12-gauge shotgun asking people questions in the street, gave the public something to worry about. Which was exactly what they were trying to avoid. It was how it had to be and unfortunately he had to be in the middle of it, and right now in the middle of the freeway, as the traffic was clearing, someone was right behind him, following closely.  
  
"What time is it?" Richardson glanced over the office. Everyone was working hard on whatever they'd been assigned to and didn't hear him. He stood up and cleared his throat, "What time is it in here?" several people glanced at watches or rubbed their eyes and shifted their gaze to their monitors. "It's about four thirty, in the afternoon." "Thank you Shaffel, you can make the coffee then." "He slumped backed into his chair and scrolled across the documents. Three different people, pulled together in one cell and each of them forming their own cell to carry out there operation. He still didn't understand what was gong on, there had been another hit, and it had been on someone who to their knowledge wasn't on the list. But then again the list was corrupt, and they had to decipher it as fast as possible. Which reminded him. "Shaffel, quit making coffee, if anyone wants it they can get it them selves. How are you doing with the Hawkdive list?" "I'm ok with it, look I was about to tell you, I think I may have found something in regards to the hit list." "Well?" "it seems there is more than just a connection through the military, they all had something to do with a highly confidential R&D project. This is extremely confidential, and we shouldn't know this. At least I think we shouldn't." Richardson gripped his desk and looked Shaffel in his eyes. "Listen take your stuff and move into one of the secure offices down in the basement, I'll transfer al your files onto the computer down there. I'll try to grab you higher clearance so you can work on this. Scott thinks he has something, I ant you to help him follow it up. If he thinks that this hit is significant it probably is." "Richardson, are you sure I can look at this kind of stuff?" "Were the counter terrorist unit, when we have to use confidential information in a case we have no choice. It's our job, besides no one else will do it." Shaffel stood fro a few seconds, turned and started to walk off. "Ok chief," he said, "I'll get back to you as soon as possible, and by the way your phones ringing." "Cheers." He picked up the slim-line phone from the desk and flipped it from mute. "This is Richardson.yeah.what the hell do you mean there's been another assassination attempt? Alright.we'll start looking into it as soon as possible." He hung up the phone and jotted down the name and hit the speed dial three button on his phone. "Scott? This is Richardson.yeah there's been another hit.this time they scored Scott.they scored big time."  
  
Hoped you liked this, more soon. 


	2. Yuri and Hideo

The following chapter is written by John O'Keeffe  
  
Chapter 2  
  
St. Petersburg  
  
Snow dropped lightly into the beautiful courtyard of the city centre. The wind was in no way strong, but the breeze touching your naked skin made you shiver. The harsh winter which had swept over this famous city was over, although someone who was a stranger to this town would have fought otherwise.  
  
It's often interesting to look down in the snow and see thousands of shoeprints. It's quite amazing just how much you can tell about what the person is like. Whether they where trainers or stilettos or boots, big feet, small feet, some experts can even tell if they were walking or running. One set of shoeprints lay about 30 metres from the Kremlin. They were of a reasonable size and were very expensive. An expert would then tell you that the person with these shoes was walking casually away from the Kremlin. But they would be surprised that a person who wore these expensive shoes was heading towards an alley where the light of the Sun never reached. This alley bore no snow on the ground. It was home to prostitutes, drug dealers, smugglers and a woman who only left her house once a year to throw away her excrements.  
  
The man with the expensive shoes had got pretty far down this alley. It was now extremely dark as the towering, derelict offices clouded away the sky. The man was of Japanese decent, but had lived in the Soviet far too long to look out of place. He took pride in his appearance and when he looked down at his shoes covered in mud, he shuddered. He had reached his destination. The building looked no different from the rest; its only distinguishing feature was the number "423" on its bland, eroded door. As instructed, the man gave it three short knocks and waited. After a couple of minutes, the door opened, behind it stood an old, short, fat man with an extremely expensive suit on. The fat man stuck his hand out, the Japanese fellow new what he wanted and gave him the suitcase. The man shut the door, a few minutes passed before it opened again. "Hideo, you can come in now"  
  
Hideo followed as the fat man led him down staircase after staircase. The walls had seen better times, cracks and holes were more common than flat concrete. Finally, the two gentlemen reached the bottom. In front of them stood a door, brightly painted and brightly lit. Compared to the rest of the building, the door looked like a God-send. The fat man gave it three short knocks and the two waited in silence. The door opened and they entered.  
  
This room reflected the style of the door. It had been newly painted bright red and looked obscene. The room consisted of few home touches, only a painting of Stalin, a varnished table and two chairs were there. Hideo was instructed to sit and wait. More minutes passed and finally the door once again opened. A tall, well-dressed man entered, wearing the same suit as the fat guy. Only, the suit looked good on the tall man. "Hideo! How good to see you!" "Yuri, I have not got time for small talk" "I no, I no." Yuri sat down on the remaining chair and put Hideo's briefcase on the table. "I am please to see that all of your papers are in order" "My company takes pride in getting the job done to its highest standard. No matter how big or small it is." "Yes, Hideo, that's why we hired you. But you must understand, this is the biggest job YOUR company will ever get." "We no that, in fact we believe it is so big that...well umm...we think we deserve a better payment."  
  
Yuri looked unsurprisingly stunned. He thought $6 million was quite enough.  
  
"If not....we will leak your plans and your mission will be over, a waste of money and personal." Yuri gave a short laugh and gestured the fat man to come closer. "I am very surprised with you, Hideo. But I suppose it is too important. An extra $4 million will be transferred to your account once Hawkdive is complete. I will contact my comrades in Serbia and Iraq to prepare them for this new transaction. There not going to be pleased though."  
  
Yuri gave another short laugh and then closed the suitcase. He took out of pocket a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Hideo but he declined. Yuri then stretched into his jacket and pulled out a Desert Eagle and placed it on the desk. Hideo began to sweat.  
  
"One for thing Hideo." Yuri paused. "I need confirmation that your `company` will be able to secure the device in the next twelve hours." "I've already told you, we are experts. It shall be in our control in six hours." "What about your assassin. Is he in place in London?" "Yes, ready for our command." "Excellent! Well I guess the meeting is adjourned."  
  
The two men stood up and shook hands. Hideo picked up the suitcase and walked towards the fat man and the door. "Ever played Russian Roulette Hideo." Hideo stopped. "Err, no...I haven't." "Me neither, turn round."  
  
Hideo's forehead and hands began to sweat more. But he obeyed Yuri and turned. The Russian had the weapon pointing at him. "In these circumstances, I find games to be very silly. Don't you, Hideo?" "Err, yes Yuri.I mean sir." Yuri laughed again, only this laugh seemed more evil, more truthful in fact. "No your right, I find in these circumstances its best to get right to the point."  
  
With that, Yuri fired a bullet. Hideo closed his eyes. The newly created dropped. Silence. Hideo opened his eyes once more. Lying, on his expensive shoes, now covered in mud and blood, was the fat man." "Your mission will be done to the highest standard. $6 million is sufficient. You dare disobey me again and you and everyone in your company will die. The workers will die, the parents will die, the brothers and sisters will die. You said you can acquire the device in six hours. That will be your new deadline. Six hours from now or prepare to face the consequences." Yuri turned round, his back pointing towards the door. "You can show yourself out, remember to close the door after you."  
  
Hideo quickly went out of the room and up the stairs, out of the front door and into the dark alley. He wished he could feel the wind. And as he began to run back to the city centre, he didn't care that he was running through the muddiest puddles in the street.  
  
_________________  
  
The Volvo of Scott Jaeger was exceeding the speed limit by several miles per hour. As he sped across the highway out of the city, he couldn't help notice that someone was doing exactly the same speed behind him. He reached his turn off and as he headed towards the location of the hit, the other car followed. His phone rang. "Hello? Yes Richardson I am nearly there now. Forensics should be there within the hour. One more thing, I need an identification of the person who owns the car with plate number 6754 4125 - state of Nevada. Get back to me soon."  
  
Scott turned into the place where the hit occurred. It was a shopping complex, just outside the centre of Burbank. The following car sped off in the other direction. Scott parked and walked into the mall. A large crowd of people were circled around the fountain in the centre. Local police forces were struggling to hold them back. Scott walked up to them. "Scott Jaeger, Counter terrorist Unit. Is this all the men you've got?" "No sir," said the lieutenant, "twenty more are on there way. Once there here the mall will evacuated." "Did anyone else get shot?" "No Sir" "Did anyone see the shooter?" "No one has come forward yet, sir." "Ok, let me through."  
  
The lieutenant and Scott pushed though the crowd towards the crime scene. The body had been covered by a blanket. It was obvious that the target had been sitting on a nearby bench, it was covered in blood. Scott removed the blanket and the crowd screamed. It was a perfect head shot. Scott didn't recognize him. As he replaced the blanket, his phone rang. "Hello?" "Look up. I'm watching you!" "Who is this?" "You won't know unless you find me." The line went dead. Scott looked up. He saw a man on the top floor. The man stared at Scott for a second and then ran. Jaeger tried to push his way through the crowds. When he did the phone rang again. "Hello" "Scott, its Richardson, the plate number you sent me, it doesn't exist." "That's impossible. I saw it clearly." "Your mistaken Scott." "Ok, look we need reinforcements here, the shooter is still in the building."  
  
More soon, if you can wait. 


End file.
